


Relay

by Maraamritadyer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, I ship both and neither, M/M, Murderbaby consumes all my thoughts, Pre-show, bedannibal through the years, eventual muderhusbands, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maraamritadyer/pseuds/Maraamritadyer
Summary: Two pink lines on a flimsy plastic stick can change a lot of things.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This idea will never leave my mind so I had to make it happen. I hope you like it and if you do, leave comments and kudos to motivate myself to write (keep in mind that I'm a grad student so, that might make things a bit slow sometimes) you can find me in tumblr at leias-rebelion.

When she was in medical school, attending births was the least favorite part of her rotations. 

She mostly felt pity for the women in the birthing bed, treated as second class citizens in comparison to their would be children, sometimes medically mistreated by midwives and doctors, while the students could only watch: the blood, the pain, the cut of a c-section or episiotomy.  
While she felt sorry for them, she despised most of the fathers to be. Peacocking around nurses and female residents, like their partners weren’t doing all the work in the room 5 steps away. Were they the fittest to perpetuate the human species? She often wondered. 

All those memories came down on her like a bucket of cold water, as two pink lines stared right back at her from a flimsy plastic stick. 

Would Hannibal peacock around while she begged for everything to end? 

They aren’t dating.  
They have sex and they talk, and have sex again.  
Bedelia is simply curious, she can tell that he’s not all that he seems and Hannibal knows it, so he gives her glimpses of the creature behind his person suit to keep her interested. A long game of cat and mouse that just became a lot more complicated. 

Bedelia feels like laughing, crying and dying at the same time. She throws the stupid stick on the garbage disposal and leaves the bathroom, mentally preparing herself to see her next patient. It feels as if some deity from above the sky is laughing at her plight as soon as she reads the file: 

_30 years old, postpartum depression._


	2. Freely given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I hope you like this chapter. It's very fun to imagine a younger Hannibal and Bedelia dealing with a pregnancy, and the outcome of it. This fic is very much self service haha. 
> 
> Apologies for all mistakes, English isn't my first langauge.

The days merge into a strange stream of work, sleep and nausea. Thick and slow, the clock ticks on her office’s wall as the days pass. Hannibal expects her for dinner at his house next friday, after three weeks in a conference on his beloved Italy. 

She’s almost 8 weeks along, getting dangerously close to the limit to terminate the pregnancy. It’s a bitter thought, a part of her craves the chance of motherhood, while the other wants to pry the fetus out of her womb with her own hands. She dances between those two extremes. To nurture or to crush? 

It’s Thursday night and sleep does not come, her hands roam on the slight swell of her belly and her mind wanders to the dangerous place that’s Hannibal Lecter: How will he react? She’s the person that knows him the most, but not enough to even be sure of a reaction. He had a romantic streak, a dramatic one as well. Would he drop to one knee and ask her to marry her? The memory of his long lost family dancing on his mind? Perhaps he would kick her out of his house, warn her to never show up on his doorstep and close that door forever?   
She fell asleep with her mind dancing between the two scenarios. 

“Beloved Bedelia.” Hannibal greets her, cheeky smile on his face. The conference must have been good. He takes her hand and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I hope you’re hungry”   
“Slightly peckish.” She admits, paying no mind to the pet name. He calls her like that when he’s in a good mood, or to tease her. This time, a mixture of the two. He takes her coat and purse before guiding her to the dining room. 

The display does not disappoint her, the food is obscenely abundant and styled as the dinners of Henry VIII. She wonders how much of this is a scar of childhood, and imagines young Hannibal, brown hair and high cheekbones growing up while feeling the USSR crisis’ in the pit of his stomach. 

“Wine?” His voice brings her back to reality.   
“Just water.” She smiles politely, resisting the impulse to bite her lower lip. His face turns into shock for a second, before slipping the mask of politeness and courting back on. 

Hannibal never stops looking at her, bordering on rudely staring, as the night progresses. It makes her skin crawl and brow sweat, but she tries to concentrate on the food and ask inane questions about Italy.  
“Everything alright?” He asks casually between bites, as she barely eats the food he’s served her.   
“I just don’t have much of an appetite.” She admits, the idea of taking a bite of the brussel sprouts makes her want to run to the nearest lavatory.   
“Not even for wine?” He is looking at her suspiciously, making her feel backed up in a corner.   
“It’s bad for the baby.” Bedelia replies nonchalantly. To his credit, Hannibal does pale a little. “Are you pregnant?” He recovers fast enough.  
“8 weeks along.” She replies, holding his gaze, looking for the smallest hint of a reaction. “It’s yours.” His person suit is tightly knit in place. 

Hannibal takes a crudely long sip of wine. “What do you intend to do?” He doesn’t question his paternity and it pleasantly surprises her.   
“I’m not sure yet, to be completely honest.” Bedelia knows that declaring honestly is as useful as waving a white flag, but she wants to be as transparent as possible about the situation as possible. “I want it and not,” A sip of water to settle her nerves. “Any opinions?” 

“It’s not really my choice, in the end.” Hannibal pours himself more wine, “I respect you as a person.” He licks his lips, “Beloved Bedelia.”   
“Are you willing to be a parent?” Bedelia asks drily.   
“I would help you,” He takes a sip of wine. “If you asked me to.”   
“I won’t ask for help.” She’s stabbing him with her eyes, anger coursing through her veins without restraint. “Anything you do will be freely given.”   
“So you do want to keep it.” He smirks over his glass of wine.   
“I do.” It’s crystal clear to her now, and Bedelia feels stupid for questioning it during the last couple of weeks. “This child will not be in your debt,” Her voice is firm. “And neither will I.” 

Hannibal silently evaluates her for a minute. “I understand,” He finishes off his second glass and walks up to her. Bedelia suddenly feels dwarfed by his body in front of her. “I would like to be a father,” He says, holding out his hand for her to take. “If you allow me”   
“I would,” Bedelia says, taking his hand and standing up. “I will.” 

Hannibal kisses her passionately, hands holding her face. She wondered if being loved by him felt like this.   
She liked it.


	3. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm falling on a non linear narrative and I am so sorry (but not really?)  
> Thank you to the people who have left kudos and comments, I see you and I appreciate you! (also te veo, amiga/o que habla español). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

By the 8th month, Bedelia is plump, tight and done with this ordeal. Her belly has stretched more than she thought possible, and as her patience grew thinner with time, she had to resist the impulse to roll her eyes whenever someone commented on how small she was. Another downside of pregnancy is that she suddenly became public property, before her child made her presence known to the world most people didn’t try to get too close to her (Ice queen, they used to whisper behind her back), but now she had to deal with well meaning old ladies on the grocery store congratulating her, and even one of the nurses at Hannibal’s hospital had dared to touch her belly, smiling lasciviously down at her and commenting on how she looked like a ripe peach. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, noticing her pent up anger as they walked out of the building.   
“One of those nurses touched and called me a ripe peach” Bedelia spat out with disgust as she handed Hannibal the car keys. He shot her a puzzled look. “I don’t want to crash into a tree out of anger”   
Silence stretched between them in the car, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he drove them to her house.   
“I’m sorry Bedelia, that was very rude and inappropriate of him.”   
She merely sighs, exhausted. “It’s not your fault.”   
“Nevertheless, the feeling persists.” 

A week later Hannibal throws a dinner party to honor the impending birth of their child, and she never thinks of that rude nurse again. 

Her relationship with Hannibal was never a normal one, but being pregnant with his child turned it into something… different.   
She could only describe it as warm.

As the pregnancy progressive Hannibal filled the role of future father and partner beautifully.

“What was your family like?” She asks over dessert, the reality of her pregnancy still fresh. Hannibal blinks a couple of times, trying to compose himself and form an answer. She just knows the basics: All dead, lived with his aunt for some time and after medical school in Italy, came to the states. 

“They have their special place in my memory palace.” He pauses and avoids her keen gaze. She loves to be the one to witness it. Hannibal Lecter, getting uncomfortable. “My father was a very serious man. He worked for the regime and didn’t spend much time home.” 

His cake is abandoned on the coffee table, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. “My mother’s name was Simonetta, I must admit I was what the americans call, a mama’s boy.” He let out a sad chuckle. “And Misha, my younger sister. I was there when she was born.” 

“That must have been traumatic for a young boy.” Bedelia commented, “Watching your mother in pain and having no way to help.” 

“I would say witnessing the miracle of life at a young age was a gift.” The threads of the person suit were getting tighter, back in place. 

“Would you like to be there?” Bedelia tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, nervous about the answer, about the whole situation. 

“If you allow me.” Hannibal looks hopeful. 

“Of course I would, it’s your child too.” She relaxes and smiles shyly. 

Later that night, after she’s fully sated from the food and the sex, in the middle of thick dreams and soft touches, Hannibal’s voice is soft next to her ear.   
“You’ve given me the greatest gift.”


	4. Seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on my non linear narrative bullshit! I wrote this instead of working on my thesis so I hope you enjoy!   
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!
> 
> Note:   
> The phrase "What's love if not wanting to be seen?" is by Camille Norton.

Hannibal’s hands are gentle on her head as they lather shampoo on it. The water is warm and perfumed of lavander and chamomille around her body, lulling Bedelia into a state of utter contempt. 

At six months along, her stomach has grown bigger than she had ever expected it to do. The baby moves around, leaving a trail of butterflies inside of her body. She feels Hannibal’s eyes on her bump. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bedelia breaks the comfortable silence between them.   
“Just wondering how she will look,” Hannibals says softly as he begins to rinse the product off.   
“It could also be a he” She teases, as the baby hadn’t displayed itself for the sonogram to see, the sex remains a mystery. “Betting on the genetic lottery is only a losing game.”   
“I hope she looks like you.” Hannibal’s sincerity caughts her off guard and disarms her. It always does, as Bedelia expects half truths by default from him.   
She takes his hand and squeezes it gently, a significant display of affection between them. “She or He will look like themselves, unique in a sea of people.” A reassurance and a promise.   
“Of course.” Hannibal closes off in an instant, takes his eyes away from the bump and starts to condition her hair. 

“What were you as a young man?”   
“I was rooting for Mephistopheles and contemptuous of Faust.” Hannibal chuckles. “What were you as a young woman?”   
“I wished for Penelope to kill Odysseus and rule Ithaca with her handmaids.” 

Hannibal’s bed is comfortable under her body. She wished someone would have warned her of how it would feel like, when her body isn’t just hers anymore. The pain and random aches, the nightmares and the fatigue wearing her down every single day. Bedelia just wants her body back. 

“Everything alright?” Hanniba asks besides her, taking his eyes off from the book between his hands. His silk pajamas look soft and comfortable, just like hers. She’s suddenly shocked by the domesticity of the situation.   
“Yes.” Bedelia bites her lower lip. “This feels… very domestic.”   
“Does it bother you?” Hannibal chuckles and leaves the book on his night table.   
“Does it bother **you**?” Bedelia wishes he would drop the playful smile in his lips.   
“Not at all.” Hannibal rolls on his side to face her, “It’s very different from our original arrangement, but I find myself enjoying it.”   
There it is, the honesty that makes Bedelia feel warm inside.   
“I enjoy it too,” She admits. “Do you think it will be like this after the baby is born?”   
“I don’t know.” He says somewhat bitterly. “I don’t remember much of life when my sister was an infant.”   
“We’ll figure it out as we go, I suppose.” Bedelia lightly touches Hannibal’s cheek. A handsome man, with high cheekbones and beautiful eyes. A dark man, with secrets from his past. Does she love him? She asks herself every morning. She knows him better than most, and has just scratched the surface of his being. Curiosity runs through her veins like adrenaline, daring her to get bolder and ask more questions, to insist when Hannibal redirects the subject.   
She sees him, better than most.   
_What’s love if not wanting to be seen?_

“I have to ask for one thing though.” That sparks Hannibal’s interest. “Don’t ask me to marry you.”   
His face shuts down for a second, but he quickly replaces the expression with a teasing smile. “Why not?”   
“I don’t want you to make an honest woman out of me, I don’t care about that.” It’s the thinnest excuse out there, they both know it. Marriage right now would feel out of pity, and Bedelia doesn't lie to herself, tying herself to a man was never an option for her, no amount of children could change that. 

“Well, in that case… I would like to ravish the dishonest woman laying next to me.” Hannibal teases as his hand caresses her face, his thumb touching her lips, silently begging her to open up.   
“I see you can’t resist my womanly charm.” Bedelia says drily before taking the thumb between her teeth. 

She sleeps just fine.


End file.
